I snowball a lot of people :3
by HybridsRose
Summary: 'Nuff said
1. Dum Spiro Spero

Dum Spiro Spero:

_Dedicated to: Zero –splat-_

While Katniss was training to be the symbol of rebellion, Prim was locked up in a different world entirely, training to be a doctor. Katniss was the symbolism, the power tool that got everyone going, flames searing across a whole nation that got everyone burning in destruction, whether intended or not. All that was needed was a single sweep of her arrow, a word or phrase and the whole of Panem would respond to her call.

It needed multiple fingers, a good brain, bandages, strong antibiotics, and often several pieces of medical equipment to cool the wreckage from the rebellion and savage what little lives they could. Sometimes Primrose even wondered what was the point? When they would all die anyway.

One day, at the late hours of the hospital, she was talking to her professor.

"It's sad how once we heal the sick, more come in."

The professor didn't say anything.

"I sometimes wonder if there is a point to this. Every sick person that we heal, there are two more wounded that come in. Is there ever an end?"

"Tell me, Primrose. Have you ever heard of the quote 'Dum Spiro Spero?'" inquired the professor.

Prim shook her head.

"It's from two writers – Theocritus and Cicero, and comes from latin. Latin is often used to name things in medicine. Dum is while. And spiro comes from spirare, which means 'to breathe'. In latin, the verb carries it's person in its suffix after the stem, words that end in an 'o' means 'I something'. And spero comes from sperare; 'to hope'. Can you guess the meaning of the phrase?" asked the professor.

Primrose frowned, blue eyes staring off into the distance and lip bit as she considered this, but she quickly put two and two together and said, "While…I breathe…I hope?"

"Exactly, and until you stop the former, there is always the latter. And hence, we heal and life goes on."

Primrose nodded, wizened by her professor's wisdom.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Erm…written for a snowball fight in CP. (Caesar's palace) So don't worry if you didn't get the title or the summary, it's an inside joke :P**


	2. The Chipmunk and the Fox

The Chipmunk and the Fox:

Once upon a time, there lived a chipmunk, in a tree, amongst the forests of the 74th Hunger Games arena.

It's name was Lils.

Lils the chipmunk liked collecting things, namely food for the upcoming winter months, and spying on people below her tree. She used to live in peace, until a large gong sounded in the distance one day, that came from neither animal nor human, and a series of loud booms that she'd never heard in nature before. Ever since then, she had seen a lot. She had seen a humankind viciously murdered beneath the very tree she slept in, she had seen figures darting through the bordering trees, she had seen a goosling run for it's life, while being chased by three boisterous humans.

Today, she saw another human. A human with flaming orange fur - Lils thought humans were weird, their fur changed colour from the top of their head to around their body - on her head, and sleek brown fur on her body. Lils had seen this human before. Even her scent was familiar. It smelt of fox, wild berries and something pleasant that Lils had never smelt before, carried on by the wind. This human often scampered around the base of the bushes surrounding the tree, picking raspberries and scavenging to find food. But she always ignored this tree, which was a pity, for it was a hazelnut tree. And the ripest hazelnut tree Lils had ever known. If only she knew.

The chipmunk watched the girl for a little while longer. She thought there was something different about her. Whereas the other humans had a scent of bloodthirstiness and terror on them, she smelled harmless. Her swift and precise moments as she striped branches of their fruit, and her watchful eyes as she scanned the distant treeline. She was just an animal, like the chipmunk. Trying to survive. Trying to find food, in this otherwise harsh realm of life. Lils had a feeling something terrible was going to happen sooner or later, she had this odd chipmunk sense which chipmunks have, that the other humans were trying to _hunt _her.

Lils watched her a little more. The girl it seemed, had stripped the bushes of most of their berries, and had now slumped, defeated, against the trunk of her tree. Her flaming fur almost a notch of colour less.

Lils looked; at the girl, and at her collection of hazelnuts in her tree.

A large pile, towering in the hole in the trunk of the tree that she kept them in.

Hard shells, and tasty insides, emitting waves of deliciousness Lils could always smell.

The heavy lifting hours, and many days it took her to get the nuts there washed back to her - surely, she had more than she needed for this winter?

Tentatively, gingerly, she crept along the branch and pressed a paw against the hard rough shell. A little push, a little scampering of her hind paws - and Lils had pushed the first one over the edge, and watched it hit against the bottom of the tree trunk and bounce a little further. The human jumped up startled, and crept to investigate it.

This human was smart. Lils could sense that. And it would find food somewhere else. But for the meantime...

Crack. Tip. Splash.

Three more ripe hazelnuts came bouncing down - a delicious meal to be made.

Then Lils bounded away.

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><p><em>Dedicated to Lils the Chipmunk! *throws a chipmunk sized snowball* *splat* *TEEHEE* <em>


	3. Someone who's young and isn't carefree

_Someone who's young and isn't carefree_

A swish of black cloak in the darkness; a silent thread towards an open moor. A thousand wheat heads glittering under the silky moon's glow. Harvest time had came and went, rendering the usually tall oppressive wheat stalks to nothing - their overbearing fruits stripped away. The moor spread far and wide; waiting for the next crop, unhindered by the old growth, practically inviting feet to run and run, under the moon's delightful gaze, run until breaths are breath_less_, and cares are care_free_.

Sublime youth is present and uplifting, engulfing her, but she bites her lip and stops. _Remember what happened to Martin? All he wanted to do was play with them. _

The dawn shift starts, and the opportunity is gone. Just because they have the Reaping in the afternoon, doesn't mean they're going to stop working in the morning. The moon's secure aura fades away, as dawn announces it's arrival. A cry splits the inky blackness, and the girl removes the cloak from her shoulders.

"Here, take this." Her voice is barely a whisper. "It'll keep you warm."

"That was an awfully nice thing to do," whispers the voice of a friend, later onward as they're working.

The girl just shrugs, "it's what brothers and sisters do for each other."

When the sun is alight in the sky, and the morning's work is done for the day, she picks a winding path home. The sun is searing, and the grounds are lightning hot, but the smell of summertime is near, and she looks forward to seeing her brothers after work. _Maybe we could play a game of hide and seek? _She smiles upon remembering last year's occurrence.

Games are played; lunch is had; and the Reaping calls.

She lines up in the youngest age bracket, surrounded by people of her age, eyes staring dead straight ahead. There was fear, and there was imprisonment, and a undeniable longing for yesterday's freedom. For standing by her parent's side, in the not roped of section for the people too young or too old. Black silky hair - tangled with each others, arms wrapped in a forever embrace, her mother whispering sweet words and things in her ear.

"Let's start with the boys now," announces the escort, heels chattering amongst the hastily erected stage, as his fingers dip into the reaping bowl. Yes, the escort is a _he_.

The name is announced, and an unfathomable relief ripples across the sea of boys, delighted that they're not being chosen for this year's torture, spirits uplifting with another year of life to be had, embarking on youth's train yet once again.

"And the girrrrl...let's hope it's someone of opposite demographics!", he says for the boy tribute is obviously not from one of the younger age brackets, "contrasting tributes get bonus points in the Capitol's betting system!" thrills the escort, dipping his fingers into the bowl again. He gets his wish.

"Rue..."

_Someone who's young and isn't carefree._


	4. Breathe Again

**Breathe Again**

Life has changed, ever since the mutts got him. And so had district four. The change was unbelievable, almost unbearable. The Career Training Centre was torn down to the ground, and despite it's associated hardships and years of pain, it held good memories as well, and purpose, a sense of purpose that Annie never felt in her life again, after the Games destroyed her.

She had a son, whose middle name was Neptune. Named after the sea god from times of ancient Rome that Panem had tried to copy itself so fruitlessly through the years. The Hunger Games was an example. It seems ironic she names him after the thing that destroyed her most. But names had power, and she hopes he will inherit some of Neptune's greatness one day.

He's grown up now, and life has gone on. Annie helps with treasure hunting - diving deep into the ocean waters to obtain pieces of ceramic glass figures, outdated music devices, a hairband or a shoe, from before the Civil war which lead to the rise of the Capitol, these antiques are now displayed in a museum for all to see, and this newfound country isn't afraid to disguise it's past.

The years of career training and days running along the beach; diving into the waves and scouring the area for mussels or oysters, have not left her. She can hold her breath longer than anyone else on the crew, despite being the oldest, and frequently stays down there for extended periods of time. Even after she's found the treasure. Before she used to test herself, staying down there just a little longer each time, half wanting, and half not wanting, to know what happens. Only once did she black out, and hauled to the surface, head throbbing and gasping for breath, for that delicious influx of oxygen, she is suddenly reminded of the preciousness of life, and doesn't try again.

But this time, her necklace gets stuck under some photo frames on the bottom of the ocean's surface. Despite laws against it, people still litter, and sometimes Capitol junk from the _good ol' days _(note the sarcasm) gets thrown into the world's oceans, and finds itself in District Four. Untangling necklaces and strings from coral reefs are alarmingly easy to her, however the intricate designs of the capitol take a little longer, but Annie is done with it in no time.

The photo album flips over, and her breath hitches in her throat. It's some old framed photos of her and a bunch of other victors, taken on the reception of the Victory Tour - all in District One. They must have belonged to one person, who must have been a fan. It's a blunt reminder of the Dark Days II, and suddenly Annie feels as if her time is up. She releases her breath and closes her eyes, noting herself float ethereally to the surface of the ocean, but it's a long way to go. She's 93 years of age, and ready to die. Life has captured her far too long in it's hands, and now she's ready for death's cold embrace.

As she floats up, she feels her chest burn, her head pound, and last of all, her body stiffens...

But when she reaches the top there is a burst of light, and she's seeing Finnick all over again, clear as day, sharp as night, he is young, and so is she, when she reaches out and grabs his hands, only to find hers are rejuvenated to the appearance of her youth.

Across them is a beautiful beach, acres of pure white sand stretch in every direction, and they are standing ankle deep in sapphire blue water. "Finnick..." she breathes, staring straight into the depths of his sea-green eyes. He just blinks and leans in - but not to kiss her, to whisper in her ear,  
>"Sshhh. Don't say a word. The feeling's mutual," he says, than a smile jumps to his face, and he squeezes her hand, "I hear there's a pearl ripe for the picking. Want to go get it? I bet I can hold my breath longer..."<p>

"I've been holding my breath since you died," says Annie, leaning in. Finnick lets her rest her head on his shoulder and pulls an arm around her,  
>"I know," he whispers to her, "I know." Then he pulls her under the deep blue waves with a squeeze of his hand, and they're swimming through the flickering water of the shallow seas, hand in hand.<p>

Annie can finally breathe again.


	5. Team Peeta or Gale?

Chapter Summary: President Snow takes the team Peeta or Gale test. Chaos ensured.

Warning: Crackfic.

President Snow was having a very lazy Saturday. Contrary to most people's beliefs about him, he did not spend his days getting up at 4am in the morning to do some incredibly important business work. No, he quite liked to sleep in on Saturdays. It is without a doubt, however, that this current time, in which the story takes place, was remarkably early even for such a man as Coriolanus Snow himself. It was 8am - early by his standards, even though he was still lying in bed.

A laptop was open at his side. he usually didn't concern himself with such primitive technology these days, with what the computer chip implants, hologram glasses, Nanophones available at the slightest of spoken commands, and more these days, but he felt an overwhelming urge draw him towards it. _Do it..._a loud omnipresent voice whispered in the background, as if echoing from all sides, _do it. The writer urges you so. _

"What the-" he splutters, but obeys almost instantly.

**Are you Team Peeta or Team Gale?** The hot pink font reads innocently admist a background of red hearts and shapes.

**Question 1: What would you do if you were in a really tough situation. **

**A. Figure out a solution first, then try to work out the problem. **

**B. Act first. Do what you can at first to help. Think it through later.**

**C. Think it through while you act. Think about what would most likely happen, then think about what could happen but might not later. **

President Snow twirled his goatee around his fingers, hmm...this was some difficult question. A flicker of indecisiveness came over him, but he decided was definitely an B. A nation didn't run itself on suspense and waiting - it needed action immediately to take care of things, but definitely don't let them see you leading, was one of his key mottos. President Snow tapped it eagerly.

**Question 2: What would you do if you were given the option of working with anyone on a project? **

**A. Working on my own. That way I can get more done. **

**B. Working with someone else is always better. But if I really need help, work with someone else. **

**C. I would go to someone else. It's better when your not alone. **

President Snow thought and thought. Hmm...the second one doesn't make any sense, he thought, if it was already clear one was decisively better - why wait until he really needed to go with that option in order to succeed? It just didn't make sense. But the first...a smile bloomed at President Snow's lips,as he stroked the always present vase of white roses by his bedside table. Oh the first had led to some of his greatest accomplishments over the years. Quickly, he ticked that one.

**Question 3: If you were on a deserted island, what out of these would you bring? **

**A. A weapon. To hunt food down of course. Or for self defense. **

**B. Family and friends. To be able to support each other because everyone can help with something.**

**C. Anything that would keep me alive for as long as possible. **

Snow almost snorted at this one, it reminded him so much of the yearly Hunger Games he always held. A weapon - like that would be useful against well-intended death by the capitol. Family and friends - oh the more fun to kill. Anything that would keep me alive for as long as possible - Snow had to admit that one was more _him_ and definitely the wisest. He chose the third option.

**Question 4: Who was your favourite tribute in the Hunger Games besides Katniss and Peeta? **

**A. Rue.**

**B. Thresh.**

**C. Glimmer. **

Snow thought and thought. Well, Rue was more trouble than she was worth - especially with the Meadow Song Tribute 12 sang to her when she died. It instigated a whole rebellion, something Snow would definitely not favour her for. Thresh was very much the same, but Glimmer...District 1 was always so faithful to the capitol, even though they still proceeded to slaughter two (or at least one in their better circumstances) every year. He picked her.

**Question 5: if you could have anyone for an ally from the Hunger Games, who would it b? (Pretend they're still alive, that all of them are) **

**A. Cato! He could get rid of anyone in our path! It would be like having a bodyguard! Who would win!**

**B. Katniss, because she knows what she's doing when she hunts, survives, or fights. **

**C. Rue, because of her knowledge, speed, and reliability. **

Katniss? No. Rue? No. Cato? So blinded by the capitol he'd probably treat me like royalty and drink all concoctions I pour down his throat to ensure that I'm the final victor, thought Snow before selecting it.

**Question 6: Final Question! What if your favourite thing to do? **

**A. Anything creative, like drawing.**

**B. Something productive.**

**C. Something active, that's energetic. **

Silence. For a moment nothing happened, as Snow didn't know what to put. Then, he quirked an eyebrow and selected the first option. Plotting ways to kill someone and than later pass off their death as an accident was creative, was it not? He pressed 'submit', and so waited for his result.

He didn't know what he would get. He was a ball of nerves as he awaited the final verdict, wiping his palms on the petals of his roses to discard them off sweat.

At last, the webpage loaded, and his heart leaped out of his chest.

**You are totally Team Gale! Independent, fearless, and fierce! You can get jealous sometimes, but that doesn't keep you from trying! You are smart enough to realize what you want, even if the person isn't. **

President Snow just kept staring. All eyes trained to the screen. And then...the author chooses to conveniently end the story here, to leave you to decide the horror (or the joy) of his reaction...

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><p><strong>AN: This test is actually a real test. From the website quiz.m-magazine. Search it up if you're interested to see what you'll get yourself! **

**P.S. *splat* **


	6. Shine Bright Like a Diamond

_Shine Bright Like a Diamond_

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><p>It was a late summer's evening, with a zephyr cruising in amongst the rolling hills of District One, taking the edge out of the day's humility and bringing bites of chilling air.<p>

In the dusk luminescence, two siblings sat by the back veranda of their house, watching the changing colours of the clouds, and beginning their usual routine of claiming first spotting of the Capitol's lights beginning to switch on for the night.

"Oooh, there!" cries the brother, and the sister quickly finds a the vantage point in the distance, mouth forming an 'o' as she takes it in.

They're careers and they're trained to kill, but brought up to believe the capitol is the best for them, and for the most part it is - the capitol brought indescribable fame, usurped glory, a safety net and golden status within the District once you got back, it was the best road ahead for escaping the otherwise dull cycles of working in burning hot metal forges, making jewelry and accessories all your life. The capitol symbolized everything they hoped for, but so tantalizingly out of reach, but every day, when the sun changes to moon and day changes to night, the capitol's lights switch on before all the other Districts, and tucked away in the crests of the rolling hills - a thousand glossy rays of light spill over and the capitol shines bright like a diamond.


	7. The Bloodiest Bloodbath

**Author's note: Katniss once mentioned there was a particularly awful one where all that was there were maces, and the tributes had to bludgeon one another to death, right? Well here is my take on it, based upon her narration.**

**Also, dedicated to Behold The Dark Empress -splat-**

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><p>Sixty. Forty. It was amazing how the time ticked by when one needed it most.<p>

Twenty-four tributes stood in a reverse-district-order line facing the cornucopia, this was designed on purpose so that the usual poor, malnourished and underfed tributes had packs of skillfully trained, brute force tributes behind them; impatient for the games to start. There was a glass walkway built all around them, so there was no way out but through, and they were built so narrow that one could almost touch the edges with both arms leaning out to the side. The District Three tributes had the worst, stuck in amongst a pack of lethal killing machines, though the male tribute for Three was an enigma and looked like he might stand a chance if he could only get out fast enough, and tributes from Twelve had the best - being at the beginning of the line, but yet a full twelve metres from the cornucopia of supplies.

Ten. Nine. Eight.

Rogerio from One sharpens his fingernails on his belt buckle. He's not afraid to play dirty and gorge out someone's eyes if he had to. He's been trained all his life, and will stop at nothing.

Maedoc Meily is another, sneaky sly and full of cunning, the tribute from Six has a few tricks up her sleeve for when a Career, or any threatening tribute tries to mess with her.

Bassam from Eleven is trying not to cower in fear behind her district partner, and is desperately praying to make it out to the thick, yellow-leaved wood in time.

Three. Two. One.

Even disregarding the cannon's prolonged release, fatalities didn't usually happen within the first minute of the Games, but this one is different. The moment the gong goes, there is instant chaos; tributes are pushed (or shoved would be a better word in some scenarios) into the walls; tributes are trampled over; and the pair of Career twins from Two are unafraid to knock out some teeth while they were at it.

A spurt of blood erupts somewhere between the mines for districts Five and Six, and everyone gags at the rich red liquid spilling out from a hole in some tributes chest, and thanks their lucky stars they are not still in the glass tunnel of torture.

Mateja from Four catches up to small Quim from Ten, and proceeds to launch all her weight on the small boy. His head hits the ground and it's an instant concussion, but the blows don't stop there. Five, ten, fifteen, the karate chops to the head never cease, and soon a sizable dent with murky purple bruising has already formed, blood is erupting from his chin, and he is choking in his own teeth as he tries to spit out pleas for mercy. She snickers and delivers the finishing blow by flipping him over and striking him in the brain stem, then tosses him to join the poor boy bled out.

Rogerio, twins from two, and his district Partner Taro troop out through the sea of blood, as they reach the grass fields bordering the cornucopia, and taint the green grass red. But when they reach the golden pit, they discover to their surprise, that all they have been given are maces. They don't settle to think of the implications of this, as they strap on as many weapons as they could carry, and run to find their next victims.

Peti from Three, the one that could have stood a chance if only he had got away in time and with a good supply pack is the first. They launch the mace at him, and all the remaining tributes discover a horrific factor of the maces - the mace heads are as big as cannonballs and are specially designed to roll, even after they catch the victim - the sharp black tips sink deftly into Peti's soft flesh, and carry him to the ground, redness pooling around the dents, as he topples over and over, and tumbles down a hill, each blade lodging ever the more deeper.

Angelino breaks off from her twin in Two, and heads towards Maedoc. The mace narrowly misses her head, and then the girl falls on all fours, retching. Angelino pauses in attack, disgusted and confused, but it's those two moments Maedoc was looking for - she escapes, it turns out her retching was a ruse, and she makes for the cover of the trees without further interruptions.

More tributes are killed and turns out these maces are heavyweight weapons - the sharper the swing, the more deadlier the hit. One career accidentally impales herself with the spike in the foot, and she breaks away screaming. The mace spikes hit everyone - eyes, ears, chest, arms, legs, or even the soft squishy skin of the neck. One girl stumbles across the grass, clutching at a thousand burning wounds across her sides, where underneath her clothing, the skin gapes open like a fish's gills, and each individual flap hides her vital organs.

A boy is lain on the soft grass just one metre away from the cover of the trees - just _one _metre away, and yet his thighs are striped of skin and striped like a zebras - except the colours are beige and red.

Shouts die down, footsteps disappear with the patter of wind, and one last tribute is impaled by five maces at once, as they all stab her in the back and stomach - several passing through her bloody intestines and emerging covered with patches of red, white and purple like the glorious spoils of war.

Then the cannons start, and it's a record number of tributes dead as far.

One. Two. Three. Four...

Only ten tributes left in the Games...


	8. Strawberries and Reaping Wishes

_Strawberries and Reaping Wishes_

_The scene in the very first chapter where Katniss and Gale sell berries to Madge, from Madge's point o view._

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><p>It is a nice day today. And that's putting it lightly. The Reaping's at two, and the house is quiet for once. Dad's out, and mum's still in bed, but considerably better, which is why I call it a nice day. Most Reapings, she works herself up into hysterics and needs at least two vials of morphine to calm down. Today she's absent of all screeches, and instead lies dreamily in her bed, tranquil eyes looking out the window, and mouth muttering cozy things of time long gone. I sometimes wonder if she'd ever tucked <em>me <em>in the way, I tucked her in today, and also whether she knows it's the Reaping or not. Probably the latter, but she will soon when I show up to deliver the strawberries. My white dress and done up hair is unmissable.

The strawberries are actually for my mother, I get them from my school friend Katniss, and her riff-raff of a hunting partner, Gale. Father always gives me the money to buy them for mother whenever they come around - but they don't know that. One time Katniss asked me whether my father enjoyed the strawberries she and Gale had gathered the day before, one of the only questions she's ever asked me, and I didn't bother to correct her. Katniss is the resident poor-girl, or hunter as she became known as later, she grew up in the Seam, though my father said he knew her mother from the village days, and one day, when her father died, she suddenly had to become hunter of the family. I used to wonder how families living around the Seam areas, managed to get fresh meat when we even don't. But now I know; they hunt it illegally and sell or trade them in the black market of District Twelve.

Katniss and I pair up a lot for school projects, PE assessments and the like. You'd expect her to be awful, and an absolute slob, coming from the poorest areas of the Seam and all, but she's actually alright, and has the nicest set of table manners I've ever seen. She knows how to use a knife and fork, and that's something pretty impressive among the Seam people. We rarely talk though, which suits us both just fine.

There is a knock on the door. I go to get it.

"Pretty dress," says her partner Gale, almost the moment immediately after I opened it. I shoot him a look, trying to figure out if he was being genuine (why would he? It's for the Reaping) or just trying to mock me. See, this is why I don't like Gale. Whereas Katniss is open and straightforward, and brings about a sense of security and purpose about her, Gale is twisted. She can't see that, but I can. He's the most angry of the two, and wasn't it him that narrowly escaped a fight in the school yard last year just because someone made a comment about the state of his family? Suddenly it all clicks. He's angry at me, because I have better chances at the Reaping than he does, and with a sinking heart, I realize that it's true. It's not my fault, my family is better off than he is, it's none of my doing, I can afford not to worry each Reaping, or considerably less than the poorer families of the Seam with twenty or so tesseraes do. Dad told me not to pity them, because they don't like that, but also because it makes me seem weak, a mayor's daughter lowering herself to the level of the problems Seam people face. I know it's not my fault, but can't Gale see that? Katniss just accepts it, whereas he just chooses to make weak jibes over something that he knows I have no control over.

I plaster a smile on my face, "Well, if I end up going to the capitol, I want to look nice, don't I?"

I hope the message gets through. _Please get it, please get it through your thick skull_, I pray to myself, watching emotions of confusion and turmoil cross over his face. Finally, he says, "You won't be going to the Capitol. What can you have? Five entries. I had six when I was just twelve years old," and I know the message has been lost. Thankfully, Katniss gets it, well of course she gets it, her mind isn't clouded by hate and rage, "That's not her fault," she says, jumping to my defense.

"No, it's no one's fault. Just the way it is," says Gale, echoing the message I've been trying to get through to him all throughout this unpleasant encounter. _Well if it's no one's fault, just the way it is, then why do you tease me so? Why do you like to take your anger out on all the well-off kids if it's no one's fault? _

"Good luck, Katniss," I say, pressing the money for the berries into her hand. I take them without sparing a glance, and instead focus on slamming the door shut in his face. "You too," Katniss manages to get out, just before the door closes. It makes me feel a little bit better that she would jump to my defense. Now, that's a person I don't want going in the Hunger Games. _But you don't want anyone to go in the Hunger Games, don't you? _The faint voice echos from the back of my head, initially alarming me, but I take a deep breath and continue my way up the stairs to the second floor bedrooms. Maybe mother has voices like that, I thought pensively, as I prepare to give her the strawberries.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Finito, how did you like it? I tried to keep Madge as much into character as possible for this one, and hoped I passed off a real, imaginable and consistent perspective on their meeting. Also, I know for all of you Gadge shippers out there, (if there is even any Gadge shippers reading this) that this doesn't portray the beginnings of Gadge in a positive frame, but once I got Madge's personality down from Katniss' descriptions of her, and began writing, her character narration took a life of it's own, and this is where the one-shot got me. So if they don't match up, know that it was not intentional, and maybe think if Gadge would work in this circumstance. Does Madge really deserve a boyfriend that can't see past the end of his nose (figuratively) and picks on her, for something he knows she can't control? <strong>

**Dedicated to: XxYesterdayTodayTomorrowxX (-splat! You've been hit :P -) **

**and have a nice day! **

**-HybridsRose**


	9. I See Fire

_A/N: Dedicated to Pre-Ragnarok (splat! :P) _

_Chapter summary: In which Peeta and Katniss teach their children a new song._

_Oh and this is an actual song by Ed Sheeran - I suggest you look it up and play it in the background whilst reading this._

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><p><em>Oh, misty eye of the mountain below<em>

Peeta's rich voice spilled out into the Meadow where the two children oft played, and rang into the mountains of the distance.

_Keep careful watch of my brother's souls_

Their mother Katniss joins in; no sign of tears, but a faraway look is present in her eyes. They guess she's thinking about their Aunt Prim, the one who's always present in their bedtime stories, but never in reality.

_And should the sky be filled with fire and smoke_

The oldest one, the girl, wonders why the sky would ever be filled with depressing things like fire and smoke, and who would fill it with said things? All the fire she's seen is contained to a pit or fireplace, where people toast things like bread and confectionery when people are getting married in District Twelve. And she loves the smell of smoke from the old gas stove, added with the aroma of things boiling for their dinner that day. But her father always warns her not to get too close.

_Keep watching over Durin's sons_

Here the boy is confused. Who's Durin? And who are his sons? The boy is five, the girl is eight, about school age, and both are just learning the lyrics to this song for the first time.

_If this is to end in fire_

Here the girl remembers the twirling smoke rising into the chimney after a toasting, or if the newlyweds are impatient - the splash of water that is quickly doused upon them. She tries to imagine a world where there isn't an end to the soft, trickling flames of red, orange and yellow, dancing upon the stove or the fireplace, or even a place where fire wasn't a good thing, and finds it hard to picture.

_Then we should all burn together_

The boy stops linking bits of grass together, and shoves his confusion aside. He will listen to this song first, then ask questions. With this resolve settled, he sits a little straighter and pays rapt attention, or as rapt as a five year old can, to the lyrics. The girl leans in, drawn by the lull of both their parents voices, not exactly pop-star material, but when mixed together in song, created a haunting melody. The two clash heads and end up leaning upon one another, letting the words of this new song make their imagination soar and take their spirits for a ride. Faces, pictures, history reawakened in the robust words of this song. Just like the meadow song.

_Watch the flames climb high into the night_

_Calling out father oh_

Madge used to watch her father in his study from the Quarter Quell, despite the seemingly creepiness and the weird glances she attracted, but at the end of the day, to see her one and only sane family member alive - safe and sound, and living for another day, it was all worth it.

_Stand by and we will_

_Watch the flames burn auburn on_

After the whole 'Mockingjay' symbolism becomes big, and catches on. They don't light a fire in their house anymore, at least not when they have people over, to try and avoid seeming all for the rebellion, but in the big bedroom of her mothers, the fireplace is lit, and they would snuggle together beneath the blankets, and her mother would stroke Madge's fluffy blonde hair - so like her own, except that now it was more grey than blonde, and tell her stories of Maysilee Donner. "That pin," she would whisper, her touch as gentle as an angel's, "that pin was hers, and am I ever so glad to see it being used again. And this time for something that won't just _burn over_." Then they leave the candle burning through the night.

_The mountain side_

Commander Lyme remembers the first time she had to blow up the mountain in her own district. It was also the last time, for there was no mountain to blow up after that. She remembers turning against everything she knew, against everything anyone had taught her, like all the others, she was caught up in the heat of the rebellion; the rising inferno that refused to let her escape, as the mountain erupted in flames of red, gold, and amber. The explosion ringing through the district, and the fiery hot ashes the size of dinner plates rising ethereally from the remains once all life turned black.

_And if we should die tonight_

_Then we should all die together_

_Raise a glass of wine for the last time_

President Snow clinks his glass against Heavensbee's, the distinct sound vibrating around the room as he drinks to the successful application of the Quarter Quell. Little did he know that was one of the last times Heavensbee would be on his side - and even then, his loyalty wavered stronger than a piece of white ash caught up in the wind.

_Calling out father oh_

_Prepare as we will_

_Watch the flames burn auburn on_

_The mountain side_

Lyme is sprinting up the fluffy green grass, completely ignoring the cold dew soaking in through her shoes, and the sharp calls of the birds above her. She is not supposed to be here, she knows, and the sound of feet pattering on the cavern below doesn't exactly fill a worker's heart with content for the rest of the day, and she'll be roasted meat if the Training Centre finds out this is where she is instead of being in her bed, in the dormitory, at the crack of dawn, but this is where the restraints lift a little, and she can see almost the whole of District Two from atop the grassy hill, and it makes her feel safest because if there's a fire coming, she'll see it miles before it reaches her District.

She huffs a breath of ice-white wisps, and decides it's all worth it.

_Desolation comes upon the sky_

_Now I see fire_

_Inside the mountain_

_I see fire_

_Burning the trees_

The grass on the Nut is burning, and catching alight with flame. Green stalks turn red, and the fiery embers seize them up, and turn them from living to smoke

_And I see fire_

_Hollowing souls_

_I see fire_

_Blood in the breeze_

The jungle trees waving in the distance, spread out around the clear island of sand amongst a ring of water zoom into focus as Finnick breathes out and stares more intensely. It's the Quarter Quell, and he is trapped back inside the arena, and even though he's navigated where he's most familiar - among the beach-like centre, with sand like grain, and water gently lapping at the edges, so much like District Four's beaches - but when he breathes in, he doesn't smell salt. Only blood.

_And I hope that you remember me_

Leeg 1 had always imagined she would die heroically alongside her sister - battling peacekeepers and Capitalian soldiers hand in hand, until they drew their very last breath.

It didn't happen quite like that.

Leeg 2 was killed by a dart to the brain before she even had time to cry out, or for Leeg 1 to call her name. The last thing Leeg 1 remembers before she died, is that _someone tell her father_ what happened to the both of them. Her mother was tragically killed by the pox epidemic that came out a few years ago, and they were the only family her father had left. _Please, _she prays, _someone let him know we're safe and reunited in heaven with mother. _

No one tells him. In the confines of District 13, an ashen-grey man sits pensively in his recreational hour, reflecting. Perhaps they ran away from their duties; they certainly had the skills to survive out in the woods and mountains between Twelve and Thirteen for a long time, perhaps they decided to take up permanent residence in another District closer to the capitol to monitor the war. Perhaps there was nothing for them in District 13. _Did I raise them wrong? _He finally settles on 'Missing in Action' because it answers all his wavering thoughts, and yet doesn't answer them at the same time, but he wishes he knew. He thinks, if he is not wrong (he is wrong a lot of times; no one trusts their own judgement in war), that his daughters would want him to know what happened to them, should anything have happened.

And they do. All of Squad 451 and the leaders of the rebellion (Plutarch, Coin) do, but they don't comply. Wishes are lost in war, no matter how reasonable and gallant, just like an oak slowly rising in flames during a forest fire. There is plenty of time to see, and douse it with water, but people don't care, and the embers rise high into the sky, as the burning object disappears without so much as a wisp of smoke as a momenta.

_Oh, should my people fall_

_Then surely I'll do the same_

Snow is in haste when he orders as much Capitol children as possible, to be locked up in barricades around his mansion. His legs feel like jelly, and his hands are twitching as he makes the call to this third in command. And for the first time in 76 years - he has truly been in panic. And he activates a plan that he decided upon long time ago. _If his people fall, than he should do the same._

Except he's got it the wrong way around.

_Confined in mountain halls_

_We got too close to the flame_

_Calling out father oh_

_Hold fast and we will_

_Watch the flames burn auburn on_

The rebel soldiers stare out from the grainy panes of the makeshift hospital in District Eight, and have no choice but to embrace it, as the capitol planes flying overheard with fiery explosives signal an impending death.

_The mountain side_

_Desolation comes upon the sky_

Fire. Ash. Heat. Putty.

Things come raining down the sky in ever increasing speeds and angles, and the whole world shakes and burns with fury, as the sizzling corpses of the capitol planes also join the wreckage.

_Now I see fire_

_Inside the mountain_

_I see fire_

_Burning the trees_

_I see fire_

_Hollowing souls_

Greyscale walls, a battleground of ash being harshly attacked by the rising sun - falling in crevices that haven't seen sunlight for years. The once boisterous zany life-filled Hob is now as quiet as a graveyard, it _is _a graveyard. Filled with nothing but decaying goods and remainders of hollowing souls.

_I see fire_

_Blood in the breeze_

_And I hope that you remember me_

_And if the night is burning_

_I will cover my eyes_

This is what Primrose does in the grim hours of District 13, as the shadows stretch across the room, and all that rises is the shallow breaths of her mother and sister, or just her mum if Katniss isn't there - which is more often than not. She awakes and stares through the burning night, and tries to ignore the weak glare of the moon, frowning down through the barred window. And then she takes relief in the darkness that comes with covering her eyes.

_For if the dark returns_

_Then my brothers will die_

_And as the sky is falling down_

_It crashed into this lonely town_

The bombs go off, and half the Capitol children are slaughtered in their barricade, ambling towards the one thing that will kill them all. And watching the grim faces of the wounded crawl towards whatever horror is waiting inside the silver parachute, Snow feels real, physical fear that makes his limbs freeze, and the blood in his mouth clot, and a freezing chill that toys with his insides, for the first time in what seems forever.

But it's not for them, it's for himself. They were his last defense against the rebels attacks, and with that gone, the fire may finally spread itself to him.

_And with that shadow upon the ground_

_I hear my people screaming out_

_Now I see fire_

_Inside the mountains_

_I see fire_

_Burning the trees_

_I see fire_

_Hollowing souls_

_I see fire_

_Blood in the breeze_

_I see fire (oh you know I saw a city burning out) (fire)_

_And I see fire (feel the heat upon my skin, yeah) (fire)_

_And I see fire (uh-uh-uh-uh) (fire)_

_And I see fire burn auburn on the mountain side_

Katniss and Peeta finish abruptly, and silence welcomes their presence.

Then, suddenly, Katniss turns to them, and asks them what they thought.

More silence. Then, suddenly, "I liked it. The tune was nice. But I don't get why fire would lead to hollowing souls and blood in the breeze," said the girl.

"Yeah, can we make a fire when we get home? And toast bread?" questioned the boy.

Peeta speaks first. "Yes dear, yes we can," he replies, ruffling their blonde hair and brown locks, he helps the youngest one get up, and Katniss takes the other's hand, as they head home, to their comfortable shack that reminds Katniss of everything good and golden about her own childhood in the woods. But as they walk in the playful cries of their children trying to imitate their singing, and chattering about mundane things like what they are going to have for dinner that night, and what they're learning at school for tomorrow, Peeta and Katniss exchange silence glances, and it becomes clear.

_Their kids will take the words of the song for granted, just like the Meadow Song._


End file.
